Last Laugh
by Lindy
Summary: Carter finds out that sometimes the best things in life come from the worst things. A different approach to the post-action of Lucy's demise.
1. Carter's Notebook -- Chapter 1

This takes place shortly after he is recovered from his injuries, not after the end of the sixth season. Thanks.  
  
The Last Laugh: Carter's Notepad  
G-PG  
By Lindy  
  
Carter held up the small notepad in his hands. "Fireman... laser technician..." He half smiled and let a small laugh pass his lips.  
  
Mark came into the lounge, acknowledged Carter, then walked to get coffee. He looked back at Carter's expression, still pouring the coffee, and asked, "Something funny, Carter?"  
  
Carter looked up suddenly, realizing that Dr. Greene had entered the room. "I cleaned out my locker today and found this." He held up the notepad.  
  
"What is it?" Mark walked over to a chair and sat down across from Carter. "A notepad?"  
  
"Yeah..." Carter's eyes darted across the small lines of the very tattered and torn little pad. "When I was a kid... I used to write down what I wanted to be, and then write down who I would work in that certain occupation with." He laughed a little again.  
  
"And you kept it this long?" Mark raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his coffee.  
  
Carter shook his head. "I didn't know what was in the front of it. I'd just been using the other pages to take notes when I was a med. student. Clinics and stuff..."  
  
"Yeah I'll bet..." Mark let out a chuckle. "Judging by the size of that notepad I'm guessing they weren't real extensive notes..."  
  
"Hey, listen to this!" Carter swung his legs off the sofa and to the floor, then repositioned his body and leaned forward, reading the excerpt. "Saxophone player in a band with Davy Jones, Ringo Starr, and Bon Scott."  
  
Mark made a face. "How is it possible for you to be in a band with Bon Scott, he's dead..."  
  
"I don't know, I was seven or something." Carter flipped a few pages ahead. "Oh, here's a good one! Detective with Tom Selleck and Shaft... and, advertisement with Darren."  
  
"Darren who?" Mark looked at Carter with a weird questioning tone.  
  
"That guy from Bewitched..." Carter looked up at Dr. Greene and shrugged.  
  
"You're making me feel old." Mark glared jokingly and sipped more of his coffee.  
  
"Well, I mean they were reruns and stuff-"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, save it." The two exchanged a smile, and then there was a period of silence, except for the sound of Carter flipping the pages in his notepad.   
  
"You know..." Carter said after the moment had passed, "It's been a really long time.. since I've laughed."  
  
Mark immediately stepped up to shoot down Carter's negative observation. "What are you talking about? We were just laughing a few seconds ago."  
  
"No, no... I mean a really good laugh. Like when you see something funny on TV... or something unexpected happens in a conversation." Carter stared at the notepad, the gleam now disappearing from his eyes, as he gradually went on. "You know what I mean?" He looked up at Mark, but the doctor just glanced down at his cup of decaf, then back to Carter.   
  
"Carter, if you're talking about Lucy, it's only-"  
  
"No, that's not it," Carter shot out, now looking at the floor. "I mean, just in general. The things that used to be funny..." he looked up at Mark before continuing, "They're just... not funny anymore. Like Luka brutally mutilating part of the English language with his accent... or annoying Romano by putting the tamagochi in his coat pocket..."  
  
"He still hasn't figured out where the beeping noise is coming from..." Mark smiled and tried to get one out of Carter, but he was unsuccessful in the attempt.   
  
"That's supposed to make me fall on the ground in a complete guffaw, Dr. Greene. I mean, Romano, walked around the OR, trying to find this little beeping purple egg. That's absolutely hysterical..." Carter's gaze went back to his notepad. "But I'm not laughing. Not anymore."  
  
Carter sat there, staring at the notepad until, after minutes passed by, his pager went off.   
  
"That's a trauma..." He put the notepad back in his coat pocket and stood up. He turned and walked to the door.  
  
"Carter?" Carter stopped as he was called, and slowly turned around. "If it makes you feel better... things haven't been very funny since you went away." Mark wasn't sure if Carter knew what he meant.   
  
"You mean... since I've changed?" Carter asked. Mark nodded hesitantly. "Epiphanies must be a learning experience, Dr. Greene..." Carter's eyes shot across the floor, and he quickly opened the door and left.  



	2. That Good Ol' Party -- Chapter 2

The Last Laugh: That Good Ol' Party  
By Lindy  
Rated PG   
  
These aren't my characters... sadly...  they're NBC's.  How come they get all the hot ones?  
  
"Carter?" No reply. "Dr. Carter?"  
  
John Carter spun around. "Oh, Dr. Greene." He threw down his cigarette, stepping on it and twisting it. From a few yards away Mark Greene approached Carter. "I'm sorry, I was just thinking."  
  
"Are you off?" Greene asked, stepping beside Carter.  
  
"Not yet." Carter watched the cigarette burn away a small circumference of snow on the surrounding ground.   
  
Mark followed his gaze to the snow, and wondered what Carter was thinking. The past month, he had wondered what had been traveling through Carter's mind. Sometimes he thought he knew, but then again, Carter hid his feelings a lot. Not in the ER, or on a patient, but Mark didn't know too much about his personal life.   
  
"It's a little cold to be out here without a jacket on, isn't it?" Dr. Greene scraped the snow with his foot, trying to spread the salt around.  
  
"I'm used to it." Carter shrugged, smiled for a moment, and then resumed his look.   
  
There was silence for a moment, before Dr. Greene decided to speak up. "I thought about what you said, Carter." He looked at Carter's eyes, but they never flinched or turned to face him. "I thought about everything."  
  
"I see. What is it that you think, Dr. Greene?" There was no hostility in his voice, or a threatening tone that advised Mark Greene to back up his boundaries, and this time Carter did turn to face him.  
  
After a breath, Mark spoke. "I think that you've been through something tragic, and maybe... well, maybe you should start socializing with other staff members-"  
  
"I have been socializing." Carter interrupted confidently, like a teenager without a serious cause.  
  
"I don't mean like employees, Carter," Mark implied outright, "I mean like you're friends. What about Chuny's birthday party? You didn't even read the invitation."  
  
"A party..." Carter raised his eyebrows a couple of times, before lowering them and looking at Mark. "I was at one of those once." He slowly walked passed Mark towards the entrance to the ER. Carter walked a few paces before turning around and glaring. "I think it was a Valentine's Day party." Carter turned back around and vanished into the ER.   
  
(end of part two)


	3. Shadow of a Smile -- Chapter 3

  
  
"How did I get here..." It was all that John Carter could think. The thoughts had been flying through his head since the incident: What if I had just checked earlier? If only psych would've responded. What would've happened if Lucy was here now? What would've happen if I would have dealt with it earlier?  
  
He squinted and felt the pain in his chest take over his body. This is what happened when he thought of the ordeal; he got butterflies deep down in his chest, his heart beat rapidly, and seemed to travel deep down in his chest, and he had to take deep breaths to sustain himself. Carter knew it wasn't a heart attack; just the overwhelming anxiety that he had been facing.  
  
Carter sat down on the table in the empty trauma room, swaying back and forth, trying to get rid of it. He leaned forward to breath, and back to exhale.   
  
But this time was worse than any before. "Why won't it go away..." Carter could feel a migraine taking over. "Think of something else... concentrate on something else..." The incident kept flashing in his mind: the bloody picture of Lucy on the ground, her hair mopping up the blood, her wide eyes looking at Carter, searching for help. Carter threw up.  
  
The pain was too much for him. The image in his mind tortured him, and he looked for an alternative. Dr. Carter's eyes shot wildly everywhere, until he saw it: a set of pain killers and different types of fentanyl and morphine. Carter got up, bumping into a table and almost knocking it over. Quickly, he grabbed the edge before it lost its balance. He put a hand to head, trying to soothe the headache.   
  
Making it to the counter, he wasted no time sorting out the drugs. He picked up the lightest dose of fentanyl and inserted it into the needle. Looking behind him to make sure no one was there, he pulled up his white sleeve. Shakily, Carter held the needle above his vein, and inserting the needle, injected himself with the fentanyl.   
  
In moments, the pain and anguish had vanished. "Ah ha.. the world is as it should be." Carter shook his head and cleaned up the drugs. As if he had felt nothing, he shook it off, and walked out of the trauma room.  
  
  
  
  
"Anyone here seen Dr. Carter?" Dr. Greene came into the admit area.  
  
"He was just on, there's a trauma in three. Check in there." Chuny put a clipboard into the holder. "Aren't you supposed to be off, Dr. Greene?"  
  
Mark Greene searched his mind for an excuse. "Actually, I... just forgot something I needed to speak to Carter about." He quickly dismissed himself from admit and left for the trauma room.  
  
  
"Alright, give him six of morphine. Page me when he comes to." Carter ripped off his bloody gloves.  
  
Carol Hathaway looked at Carter and raised an eyebrow. "Did you just say 'comes to'?"  
  
Carter grinned and nodded. "Why, I believe I did." Carol helped push the IV out of the room, looking narrowly at Carter behind her. He just smiled. Carter turned around and started writing on the clipboard on the counter.  
  
"Dr. Carter?" Carter jumped and turned around.  
  
"Oh, Dr. Greene. You scared me. Can I... hey, aren't you off?" Carter put his pen down on the table.   
  
"Yeah, actually I just wanted to stop in and talk to you." Dr. Greene entered the room slowly. "Are you..." Dr. Greene took off his glasses.   
  
"Am I?..." Carter just gave a typical Carter smile. Dr. Greene was amazed at Carter's one hour makeover. John Carter looked like the old John Carter. His smile seemed to be back, his voice didn't sag at the end of his speech, and more importantly his eyes seemed to be more alert and alive.   
  
Mark sighed. "You're okay, right Carter?"  
  
John Carter laughed. "Of course I'm okay. You came all the way back to ask me if I was okay?"   
  
"Yeah, I guess so." Mark laughed and looked at the floor. He put back on his glasses and turned to leave.  
  
"Is that all, Dr. Greene?" Dr. Carter asked, still smiling.  
  
"Yes, Carter, it is." He made it through the doorway, before turning around and looking at Carter. "Hey Carter?"  
  
"Yeah Dr. Greene?"  
  
"You've got your laugh back." Dr. Greene smiled a heartwarming smile.   
  
As he left, Carter could feel the emptiness taking over again, the emptiness of knowing he wasn't really back, and that his character was based solely on a dose of fentanyl. "It's not me, Dr. Greene..." He sighed. "It's not my laugh..."   



	4. Secrets of Rome -- Chapter 4

The Last Laugh, Part 4 - Secrets of Rome  
By Lindy  
  
This whole series is to change the whole exploitation of the fentanyl ordeal. I don't own these characters, they belong to NBC (but if I can buy any of them, contact me! I'm willing to pay for one of the pretty boys!). I know this series is a little different, because they've already dealt with it on the show, but I like digging into what could've happened. :) Enjoy!  
  
  
There were just some days you didn't feel like getting out of bed in the morning. It was like adding one more number to a really big pile. Only to find out that the pile was going to be divided largely. It was hard to explain...  
  
Carter scratched his face. He hadn't shaved in days. Normally, it wouldn't have bothered him, but today it did. Too bad, he didn't have time... no, he had the time. He just didn't want to waste it on himself anymore. There he stood: a black, dirty old T-shirt and some ripped jeans. Slamming the mirror back on the medicine cabinet, something dropped to the floor and clattered. Carter flinched, surprised at the noise, but didn't bother to look. He took a look at his face, the one he considered pitiful and disgusting. Frustrated, and not wanting to do anything, he walked quickly out to the living room and sat down on the couch in a fluster of tension. *Another anxiety attack...* Carter thought to himself, but it never helped to assess the problem. Woohoo, he found out what it was! And to think, Dr. Greene wanted him to pay a psychiatrist to do that for him.  
  
His mind jumped back in time for a moment....  
  
It was two years earlier, at a banquet for the hospital staff. It had been exquisite, high in the elegant Pomp Room standing high over Chicago. How beautiful it had been: some crystal had hung above, but not too much. There was a little drapery, of several sorts, mostly hardened silk and lace, there was food and tables, and all of the baggy bags were inside talking "business" and whatnot... but not outside... outside there was a smooth jazz band, playing the most beautiful jazz Carter had ever heard. The sky was clear, stars dotted the black infinity with a jeweled mist. There was a fountain in the middle of the balcony that danced the color of diamonds. And then there was her... oh, was she beautiful...  
  
Her blonde hair had been picked up, except for a few curled strands. The black dress was simple, but so elegant on her. She really was a sight, especially against the scene of the night. Most of the younger doctors and their escorts were outside, and that made the mood mutual. It was all so good. So good...  
  
The two must have danced for hours. He would sway there, holding her, and she, him. The surrounding and the atmosphere. It had been so wonderful. And clean, there was never anything sexually dirty, or anything like that. Not here. Not now. It was perfect, the most perfect night ever, and Carter knew it. How he didn't want that night to end...  
  
But it did. At four in the morning, the band finally seemed to dissemble, and the couples dispersed. Carter could feel the anxiety burning inside him as he sat on that couch. Why had that night ended? So soon?... but it was so long ago... and those days were over... he could never go back to that again... and he didn't really know why...  
  
Carter leaned back on the couch, rolling his head to one side and staring off. He thought of the woman he had danced with. She was perfect for that night. Everyone seemed to be perfect, even though they really weren't, and that would be a sin to think so. Carter didn't care. He missed her. She fit so well in his arms. He had lost sleep over it, and nothing seemed to help. It was like he was addicted to that night. It was so wonderful, an immense paradise. Something so far away... but it had been real... for a moment, at least...  
  
"Anna..." Carter whispered, falling asleep. Drifting, he dreamt thoughts of that once realistic night, breathing in the fresh smell of her hair...  
  
  
  
"Carter?" There was a pounding at the door. "Are you there?"  
  
"Wha...." Carter mumbled, waking. Where was he? His... apartment? And who was at the door?... "Oh my gosh, it's four o'clock!" Carter sprang from the couch. He had overslept.. by about thirteen hours. *You stupid fool...* he thought, sprinting to the door. "Who's there?" He asked, looking through the peephole.  
  
"It's Dr. Greene, Carter. Open up!" Carter immediately unlocked and opened the door.  
  
"Carter, are you okay?" Dr. Greene asked. He looked over Carter. "You look like hell." And he did, too. In a tattered, stained mess of clothes, Carter stood, droopy-eyed, and seemingly upset for a man who had overslept by thirteen hours.  
  
"Dr. Greene, I am so sorry I didn't show up for work," Carter braced himself, hands forward. "I just, I overslept, I'm so sorry." Carter pleaded, knowing he really didn't have an excuse.  
  
"Carter, it's okay!" Dr. Greene looked at Carter. "I wasn't upset with you, I was worried. You didn't show up for either of your shifts, and no one had seen you since Tuesday..." He peered into Carter's apartment. "Carter... this place is a mess..."  
  
"Yeah, I know..." Carter rubbed the back of his hand with his neck. "I'm really sorry, Dr. Greene, I didn't realize what time it was." Mark Greene pushed past him, entering Carter's apartment. He looked around, amazed at what he saw. Carter usually kept things in such good order. Something was wrong with this picture: pizza cartons, beer cans, milk cartons, laundry, dishes, and papers scattered across the floor. "I just have been working a lot lately, but that's no excuse, I should've at least set my alarm."  
  
Mark Greene turned back to look at Carter. "I really should've set my alarm..." Carter went on, his hand went to the back of his neck again.   
  
"Carter..." Dr. Greene threw his hand out, displaying the mess of a residence before him. "This place is a pig sty. I thought you liked things neat and clean and organized...?" He looked to Carter for an answer.  
  
"Well, usually I do. I've just... been busy. Lately." Carter shruggingly said, hoping Dr. Greene would leave soon. What did he want anyway? He had just sort of... walked into his apartment, fully prepared to give the third degree? Did he suspect something? Carter's mind wracked with thoughts, but he tried to hide the suspicion from the attending.  
  
"Carter..." Mark Greene said again, turning back to the mess in a gaping observational stare. "This is not good..."  
  
"Well, I know it's a little messy, but-"  
  
"No, that's not what I mean." The attending turned back to Carter. "You need help, Carter. You do."  
  
"Wait a second!" Carter folded his arms in protest. "Just cause I'm living a little bit more... complicated life style."  
  
"Would this complicated life style involve weight loss, disoriented living, and a changed mental status?" Dr. Greene shot back, fully prepared to fight Carter's protests.  
  
Carter shook his head, extremely mad. "All this because I didn't come to the shift."  
  
"Carter, look at you!" Dr. Greene was at his wits end. "There is something obviously wrong! Is the pain medication not working?"  
  
"No." Carter shot back immediately, lying into Dr. Greene's face.  
  
Mark could see it in Carter's eyes. Should he ask him about the missing fentanyl? No... that would seem like he had come over for that very purpose. And it hadn't even occurred to him. But it had been gone for three days... and that was the last time he'd seen Carter... and side effects involved an increase in sleep...  
  
"Dr. Greene," Carter said, not flinching a muscle, "if you have something to say..." He paused, raising both of his eyebrows. "Then go ahead and say it."  
  
Mark Greene just looked at Carter, very worriedly. "No, Carter," he said, stepping back. He wasn't going to push it. This wasn't the time, or place. "I'm just worried about you." He stared at Carter for one more moment. No, he wouldn't say anything for now. Besides... Carter was struggling with Lucy's death. That was reason enough to let it go. Smoothly, and without making eye contact again, Mark Greene brushed passed Carter on his way out the door.   
  
Carter stood there, reflecting for a moment. Did Dr. Greene know? Carter let a breath of air that he had been holding pass out his nose, and then fell back on the couch, rubbing his eyes. *Shouldn't have jumped on Dr. Greene like that...* He thought to himself. He knew there would be a little suspicion floating about now. Oh well. He would just apologize, that seemed to be the only thing he could do, lately. Apologize for how he was acting. Apologize for having a hand in murdering Lucy. Apologize for being a certain way, a way that was different than he had been before. Didn't they get it? Didn't they realize he could never go back to the way life was before? That after being stabbed, and losing his apprentice/friend/lover/whatever they wanted to call her... that things would never be the same again?   
  
Carter jumped as he heard someone at the door. "Carter?" It was Dr. Greene.   
  
"Yes?" Carter stood up, trying not to let on too much of how he felt.   
  
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to attack you like that." Mark looked at Carter again.   
  
"It's okay, Dr. Greene. I know that I have been acting a little different lately." Carter struggled with not rolling his eyes. He knew everyone had thought that... he just hoped no one had the guts to say it to his face... now he had to admit it. It was true though... he knew that.  
  
Dr. Greene looked around his apartment one more time. "Again, I mean... if there's anything you ever need to talk about..." Then he saw it: the bathroom. The light was on, and small, white pills scattered the black bathroom rug. What was that on the sink, sticking out? A short, silver-tipped needle and container protruded from the sink. Dr. Greene immediately looked back to Carter, who was starting to follow his gaze into the bathroom. "You know where to find me. If you ever need to vent." He backed up towards the door. "I'll see you at seven," he said quickly, then left.   
  
Carter nodded, but worried what Mark Greene had seen. Carter walked over to the bathroom, stepping lightly over all the trash and garbage. His eyes were wide as he saw the bathroom. He had left it a mess! Pills were all over the floor... crap, he must have spilled a bottle of the pain meds while he was slamming the door. Carter looked at the sink, almost falling down in disbelief. He had left the needle of fentanyl out for all the world to see.   
  
*Great...* he thought, going over to the couch. *Not only does Dr. Greene have suspicion, but now he has some proof...* He reached down for a can of diet coke he had sitting out. *The question is... why didn't Dr. Greene say anything about it...* Maybe he hadn't seen everything? No... he had gotten a good look...   
  
"Won't be long now..." Carter said, getting up from the sofa. No matter what he said or thought, he couldn't shake the feeling of insecurity. The feeling that no matter what he did, someone would find him out. Carter knew he was in way over his head. But he couldn't tell anyone that he was still in pain. He remembered Jeanie Boulet, and her AIDS. No one, absolutely no one, treated her the same way again after they found out about it. Even Carter himself had a hard time getting past the fact. Now, here he was. He knew what it felt like to be the center of attention, the weaker being. Gosh, how he didn't want to be thought of as "the one with the disease" or "the one in pain." He didn't need that.   
  
Walking into his room, he dressed himself, and grabbed his briefcase. It wasn't seven yet, but it was time to go to work.  
  



	5. The Sound of Silence

The walk was long, and the night's events and his weariness made it all the longer. The rolling clouds of threatening rain blocked the stars in the night sky, and the dark city of Chicago was darker than usual as Carter rounded the corner of the park and headed down another block of seemingly endless sidewalk.   
  
He had so much that he wanted to say, so much that he had thought of. Insightfulness came only to those who didn't want to adopt comfort or "someone to talk to" as a close companion. "Sorry, Dr. Greene," he muttered under his breath, burying his chin downward into the slip of his coat, and his hands into his pockets. "I have too much pride for that. And not enough dignity to let go."  
  
It was a dark thought, but it was mere truth to the reality he had told the attending earlier. He didn't know what to expect at work today, and his mind was numb to any real scathing. Yet, conscious and alert, he made his way down street after street, never stopping once to take a break or ponder any further.  
  
Then there was the hospital: this barely visible building that was practically carved into the mountain of skyscrapers, hotels, office buildings, and restaurants. Some days it was a very real, pretty thing to look at: the noonday sun beaming down its gentle rays upon the glitter of a manmade world, while in the perfect night the city would be even more radiant against the extreme darkness of the night sky, the glow of the moon, and the spotlights of stars.   
  
Today, Chicago was as the rest of his life was: dusty, dreary, and nothing could seem to get through that threatening cloud above him which just threatened harder as it got darker and darker while the day went on. It was poor, and he knew he would be walking home in it.  
  
The doors of County were none the kinder. "Chuny, if Dr. Greene asks, I'm busy." Carter shed his overcoat, nodding the nurse a hello with a somewhat friendly smile.   
  
"He's with a patient in three, and I'll do no such thing. But you can take the guy in two, and the little girl in four." She handed him two charts.  
  
"Why the little girl? Where's Cleo?" Carter asked, shoving his jacket onto a coat rack that stood in front of the lounge.   
  
"She's not on tonight, and the pedes department is busy with rotation scheduling for next semester med. students." Chuny followed him along as he walked to the exam rooms. "So they asked us to get our own guys, ones that were good with kids. I said, 'Sure, I know a guy. Real swell one, goes by the name of Carter'-"  
  
"All right, all right, I'll take her. Very nice, Chuny, I'll see you later." Carter rolled his eyes at the Latino with a coy smile before pushing the door to exam two open.  
  
And there was Dr. Greene, sitting on top of the exam table staring straight at him.  
  
Carter blinked back, knowing immediately the exact reason for his being there. "Well, if he isn't here in all of his glory. Is there a patient here, or is my time being wasted?"  
  
"Dr. Carter, you might want to rethink the path you're on."  
  
Carter's eyes only glared back with vengeance, and there was little pause before he went on. "If you think I'm going to apologize or explain the fentanyl, you're wrong." Dr. Greene looked surprised. Did Carter just come right out and admit it? "I took it. I took about seventy-five milligrams of it." He flung the chart down on the small table beside him, and it landed with a clattering bang.  
  
"Carter, that stuff is dangerous. It was meant for patients who have just had their side split into two separate pieces, or have had parts of their heart glued back together-"  
  
"Well, guess what, Dr. Greene?" Carter burst in. "That's me! I'm the guy that had his backside busted open with a cake knife! I'm the one who's had his colon, pancreas, and liver operated on all in the same day!" His voice increased as he went on, and at this point he was only a few feet away from Mark. "And you know what, Dr. Greene?" Carter asked, almost into the attending's face. "I'm the guy who had his heart busted open by a psychopathic maniac the day he took my best friend from me with a six inch blade."  
  
Dr. Greene flinched only once. It was difficult to look into Carter's eyes, to stare into their alignment of fury and still try and right the wrong that existed in Carter's mind and bloodstream. "Taking the drugs won't make anything go away forever, Carter."  
  
"Oh, we're past that at this point, aren't we? I mean, isn't forever just another word for the hope of more good old times?" Carter said sarcastically, titling his head. "You may not recognize this fact, but no matter what I do, this will never go away forever. The pain, on the other hand-"  
  
"Can be controlled with prescribed narcotics. Not something you found lying around that was meant for a medical emergency."  
  
Carter stared at Dr. Green for a moment, then let out a raging breath of disbelief and shook his head back and forth. "Good idea. Better put me back on the Tylenol and Advil. Those numb things like stab wounds and kidney lacerations. Good call on that one, Dr. Greene."  
  
"You have pills all over your bathroom. I'm sure they're not Tums, Dr. Carter."  
  
Carter crossed his arms and stood back a little. "l also have two other needles of a watered-down pain suppressant that my generous surgical team prescribed me after the operation, neosporin, band-aids, and mouthwash, but what I'm really wondering is did you get a good look at the great paint job and matching towels-"  
  
"Carter!" Dr. Greene stood up, getting closer to Carter than he had to him moments earlier. "You may not like you're current situation. You may regret it everyday of your life, and it may consume your thoughts and your emotions, but you have to find another way to get rid of this. I will not saying anything to anyone now about the needle. But if it happens again, I won't be the only one standing here confronting you about it." He paused, watching Carter's slightly weakened reaction. "You already have the mental and physical pain. Don't let it be accompanied by bitterness and noncommunication. Now... there are about twenty close associates here who are willing to talk this out with you. Just talk to them."  
  
There was barely a brush of the shoulder before Dr. Greene had passed Carter and gone out the door. Carter stared at the opposite side of the room for a moment, the sound of silence ringing over his now settled emotion. After a while, he bent down to pick up the charts, with slow and steady motions, before sitting down to gather his thoughts on the table.  
  
  
  
"Chuny?"  
  
"Yes, Dr. Greene?"   
  
"Could you make sure that all of the narcotics stay locked in the medicine cabinet in trauma four?"  
  
"All of them?"  
  
"Yeah. Here, here's the key," he slipped a silver key across the admit counter. "And just, whenever you get a chance, get them all and just keep them in there."  
  
"Um... all right, Dr. Greene. But there's a trauma coming in, now, so I'm sort of a little busy paging Carter."  
  
"No! No, don't page Carter."   
  
Chuny looked slightly more confused than she had moments prior. "Why? Did you guys get in a fight, or something?"  
  
"No, it's not that. It's just that he's under a lot of stress..." It was stretching the truth slightly. "I just don't think it's a good idea to put any more pressure on him than we need to. He needs to uh... sit it out and wind down a little."  
  
"Okay, then. I'll page Benton."  
  
"Thanks." Dr Greene smiled and turned, walking down another long corridor on his way to pick up x-rays. "Carter... you'd better wind down a little..." he muttered, glancing into an exam room on the way there.   
  
Inside was Carter, smiling as he was assessing a small girl, about eight or nine, with the utmost of care. He watched for a moment, not really thinking a single thought, but letting the mass of reality and facts linger above his head. Slowly, he turned to continue down the long corridor to X-Ray.  



End file.
